<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>True Blue by swamplamp</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23263681">True Blue</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/swamplamp/pseuds/swamplamp'>swamplamp</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Succession (TV 2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Infidelity, M/M, Mutual Pining, a crumbling marriage, apologies to anyone who knows anything about business, cameos from the Roy boys (minus Connor), drug abuse (chapter 3), extreme lack of an HR department, post-s2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-20 05:21:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>19,404</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23263681</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/swamplamp/pseuds/swamplamp</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom remembered a time when he coveted opportunities for advancement like it was something to be won. Nowadays, they flew around like shrapnel in a war zone. Or potatoes in a terrifying game of Hot Potato.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Greg Hirsch/Tom Wambsgans</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>191</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. we were alone, we were to blame</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Work and chapter titles from "True Blue (feat. Angel Olsen)" by Mark Ronson, which kicked me into gear when writing this. It's a mood.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Shiv was in his office, which was rare. She was talking to him, saying important things. Tom didn't need to hear a word of it, because he already knew that buying into it meant certain death.</p>
<p>She bore bad news buffed, greased, and oiled to look like good news, as promotions these days often presented themselves. Tom remembered a time when he coveted opportunities for advancement like it was something to be won. Nowadays, they flew around like shrapnel in a war zone. Or potatoes in a terrifying game of Hot Potato.</p>
<p>"Everyone agrees, you're the guy," Shiv explained once more, but slower. She stood with her arms crossed and her hip cocked, far away from Tom even in the cramped space of the room. "Entertainment division's fucked. ATN's fucked. Parks in Asia is going to be our saving grace and you're the only one who can handle it."</p>
<p>He dared to ask, "But I mean - for how long?" From the sound of it, this wasn’t a simple one and done, which was the case for his prior overseas trips while he was working in Parks &amp; Cruises. It was never more than a couple days. "How long do you think they'll need me over there?"</p>
<p>"It might be months. Years, if it's done right. This is a big move for us."</p>
<p>"And when you say 'us', you're talking about the company. But for us, it's--"</p>
<p>"Tom." Shiv tipped her head to the side. "This is gonna be huge. Land some deals overseas, and you're gonna be the one who singlehandedly brings us out of this mess. My dad will be indebted to you forever."</p>
<p>"And you?"</p>
<p>She uncrossed her arms. She said, "Of course."</p>
<p>"Siobhan, I'm gonna need you to use more words than that." Tom took two steps closer to her, lowering his voice. "We need to talk about this.”</p>
<p>"What is there to talk about? This is good news for you. Good news for all of us."</p>
<p>"I think-- Yeah, I'm thinking about it and, I’m not saying no. I’m just not one-hundred percent in on it. It’s a lot to process at once." His immediate answer was a definite no, but he knew better than to argue outright. He considered the deal and it brought a prickle of sweat to his upper lip. Business trips out of state made him queasy enough on a semi-regular basis. "I mean, I understand what's at stake here, but Asia?"</p>
<p>She pinched the bridge of her nose. "I don't know what to tell you. You'd be insane not to take this deal. Don't fuck this up." She left it at that, pulling open the door and walking away.</p>
<p>For all the promotions he had been on the receiving end of, the news never came from Logan himself. Nonetheless, they all came in a shiny package. This one was clearly something else. This was a marooning. A walk-the-plank kind of promotion. Cast ye out to sea sort of deal.</p>
<p>“Fuck,” Tom muttered to himself in his empty office.</p>
<p>The worst part of it all was that he saw it coming. Ever since DC and then the thing with Kendall’s shit grenade, Tom had been shuffled to the wayside. They yanked him out of ATN and placed him in a nondescript position, far and away from the public eye. He was no longer invited to the exec meetings. He was back to being glorified pencil pusher Tom Wambsgans. He was lucky he was still around. So maybe the Asia deal was a golden goose egg and something any other person would kill for. But Shiv wasn’t coming with him. And she didn’t even care.</p>
<p>And it was probably her idea in the first place.</p>
<p>Tom whipped out his phone and typed out "fuck you", then hit Send. He put his phone aside, facedown on the desk. He got up and walked to the window. He counted the cars on the street below, one-two-three-four-five-- Then his phone buzzed.</p>
<p>The message he received only said "?", a fitting response from someone as fucking clueless as Greg.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He knew exactly what was in store for him when he got home; he didn't need to have the same conversation again but in a different setting. He needed time to think. It didn't matter why he knew Greg's address without having to look it up. What mattered was that he kept himself busy before heading home.</p>
<p>Greg let him into his loft wordlessly. Tom ignored Greg's clear discomfort. He was good at that. He busted in with reckless bravado. "If it isn't Mr. Moralistic Integrity himself. How's the business down at PGM? You dismantling the patriarchy and unsucking molester cock with those principles of yours?"</p>
<p>"Yeah, you know," Greg said with a quirk of his shoulders. "It's really been a good fit for me."</p>
<p>"It looks like they've done a number on you." Tom gave him a once-over from head to toe. For lack of a better word, Greg looked different. Hipper, maybe. He was dressed in an untucked chambray button down with the sleeves rolled up and wool slacks with a stylish cut. His hair was swept back and gelled. He looked casual. He looked good. "You look like one-fourth of a tech start-up team that’s about to take a nosedive in the next quarter. Very Kickstarter chic."</p>
<p>"They're not as strict about the dress code over there. They’re good people."</p>
<p>"Look at you. My boy's all grown up and working in the real world now." He squeezed Greg's shoulders, not unapprovingly.</p>
<p>Greg’s shoulders jerked at the touch. He took a small step back, sliding out of Tom’s grasp. It was a minute gesture, but it didn’t go unnoticed. Greg stood there looking at him haltingly, like he was trying to read something in Tom’s face. </p>
<p>Tom chose not to comment on it. Lamely, he said, "It’s good to see you.”</p>
<p>"So, is this - This is a business call, right?" Greg asked, “Did Logan send you here?"</p>
<p>Tom was hurt by the suggestion. Back when all hands were on post-Kendall cleanup, Logan had sent a few goons out to shake Greg up a little. Logan tried a lot of things. Tom took no part in the initiative. From what he understood, there was a point where Logan presented Greg with a darling of an offer, but Greg stood his ground and left the company for good.</p>
<p>"Of course not, come on. This is a personal visit. Just me and you."</p>
<p>“Yeah,” he murmured, unconvinced.</p>
<p>“Nobody knows I’m here.”</p>
<p>Greg nodded absently. He gestured toward the couch and fetched them some beers, which was invitation enough. They settled down on opposite ends of a couch, just like they used to. Greg said, not looking him in the eyes, "It's been a while, yeah? Like, months since we last talked?"</p>
<p>“Sure.” Tom remembered the last time. They were not on good terms last time. He didn't like to think about that.</p>
<p>"You've been doing okay, I hope?"</p>
<p>The sun was going down. Tom could see it past Greg's shoulder. The buildings reflected the orange glow of the fading sun. It reminded him of black tie events, the anxious rush that came between getting off work and heading into a big event, and Shiv and her rows of shoes.</p>
<p>“Tom?”</p>
<p>He snapped back into focus. "Yeah. Uh huh, yeah. Things are going as good as they can be, considering."</p>
<p>Greg repositioned himself on the couch to face Tom directly. “Hey, I don’t want to pry or whatever, but you’re - you’re sure you didn’t come here for any particular reason?”</p>
<p>Tom exhaled sharply. He put his beer down on the table, then grinned up at Greg and put his hands up. “They’re shipping me off to the parks division in Hong Kong. I wanted you to know, before I’m gone.”</p>
<p>“Oh, that’s-- That's exciting, isn’t it?” Greg said, mouth quirked up in a smile that didn't reach his eyes. “I mean, congrats.”</p>
<p>“I don’t know if I’m ever coming back,” Tom laughed.</p>
<p>“Wh-What do you mean?”</p>
<p>“Shiv’s saying it’s sort of indefinite. I don’t think they want me back.” Tom held Greg's gaze, daring him to react. Greg looked right back at him with his eyes narrowed in a question.</p>
<p>“Okay. Okay, I get it.” Greg withered. “So you’re here to tell me that this is my fault?”</p>
<p>Tom's mouth fell open, dumbly.</p>
<p>“Look, man. I know you’re not gonna ever understand why I did what I did. I don’t want to have this - this discussion with you, again.” Greg ran a hand through his hair and pursed his lips. He looked sad, then. “But I knew. I knew that the fallout would be big and I’m, like, sorry that you were in the middle of it.”</p>
<p>“Greg, stop. That’s not at all why I’m here. For fuck’s sake.”</p>
<p>“Then why are you here, Tom? Why are you telling me this?”</p>
<p>He didn’t know what to say, so he laughed. The sound filled the room, rising up into the high ceilings and feeling overwhelmingly clinical.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When he got home, the lights in the living room were off and he could barely see Mondale sitting up at attention in his pet pen. He turned on the dining room light with his arms feeling heavy. His head hurt and he felt wrung out all over. It was a long day.</p>
<p>He scratched at Mondale’s neck and the dog licked at his face. “You hungry, boy? Anybody feed you yet?” He filled a bowl full of food and set it down in the pen.</p>
<p>Tom went to the kitchen to get dinner for himself. He heated up some leftover risotto and veggies in the microwave. It was anybody’s guess whether Shiv was home. She never established a usual “spot” for herself in any of the places they inhabited. In the past, Tom had found her lounging in a corner between a dresser and a wall or atop a laundry room counter. After being startled one too many times, Tom resolved to let her come out of hiding on her own time. Tom never had any siblings of his own, but he assumed that this habit of hers had something to do with growing up with her brothers.</p>
<p>Like clockwork, Shiv came into the dining room just as Tom was loading the dishwasher. She was still in her work clothes, but walked in with bare feet. She said, "Hey."</p>
<p>“Hey,” he responded, drying his hands. He stalled near the kitchen counter, unsure of what mood they were picking up from.</p>
<p>She leaned forward, elbows resting on the dining room table. The sharp look in her eyes gave away what she would say next. “Given it any thought? Logan wants to know if you’re in or out on the promotion.”</p>
<p>“Can we really call it that? A promotion?”</p>
<p>“It is. Call it what you want, but this is a real offer.”</p>
<p>Tom let out a long stream of air. Not a sigh, but something similar. He came over to sit at the table with her. “Do you want me to go? I mean, I know you want me to go. But do you want me gone?”</p>
<p>“Of course I don’t want you gone.”</p>
<p>Tom’s eyes darted from one end to the other. “If it came to it— I mean, if you could, would you come with me?”</p>
<p>“That’s out of the question,” Shiv said firmly. “Dad needs me. I’m needed here.”</p>
<p>“But who’s going to take care of you?” Tom searched Shiv’s eyes, waiting for something. An answer. A smoke signal. A tell.</p>
<p>With careful consideration, she replied, “You would be taking care of all of us, if you took this job.”</p>
<p>“Understood. Okay.” He smiled. “I’m gonna give it some thought. Sleep on it a little.” He placed a kiss on the top of Shiv’s head and bid her goodnight.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Despite the downgrade in station, they gave him a new assistant. Her name was Jordan. She was capable and efficient. She was an older woman but she was quick on her feet. She laughed at his jokes with the appropriate measure of enthusiasm. She brought him his lattes without being asked twice. Nonetheless, Tom wasn’t a fan.</p>
<p>“Your 2:30 meeting was moved to the west corner conference room on the 26th floor,” Jordan announced from his office doorway.</p>
<p>“What the hell? Why?”</p>
<p>“They need this floor for another meeting.”</p>
<p>“Who takes up a whole floor for a meeting? What are they doing? Renting out office space by the hour?” Tom stood from his desk and Jordan walked deeper into his office to stand in front of him.</p>
<p>This wasn’t the first time something like this happened. He never shuffled meeting rooms around for other people when he was in a position with enough power to do so, so it made him wonder why they were doing it to him.</p>
<p>Tom inched closer to the doorway.</p>
<p>“Do you want me to put your meeting on a closer floor?” Jordan asked.</p>
<p>“You cleared this with Clark? Or the, uh, Flintstones-looking guy, what's his name?” Tom moved and Jordan shifted. It occurred to Tom that she was trying to get him to stay in his office.</p>
<p>“Clark and Lyle gave the OK on this.”</p>
<p>"Was I the last to know?" he questioned, moving. He slighted right, then slipped past Jordan from the left. He booked it to the stairs and made his way to the executive levels. The floor he used to frequent, back in the day. He scanned the area and zeroed in on Roman bobbing down the hall. He steadied his breathing, tried his best to sound casual. “Hey, Roman. Do you know where Shiv is?”</p>
<p>“Aw, what’s the matter, Wambsgans? You run out of pages in your coloring book?”</p>
<p>“That’s a cute impression of a schoolyard bully. Where’d you get it from? Disney Channel?”</p>
<p>“Oh, you’re right. Better give that wrist a little break. Y’know, considering all the sad masturbation session you’ve got in store for you in Hong Kong.” Roman made an obscene gesture with his hands and grunted loudly the rest of the way down the hall.</p>
<p>Tom continued walking, choosing not to dignify that with a verbal response. Thumping through the rows of desks and peeking into conference room windows, he couldn’t find Shiv. Logan wasn’t in his office either. Eventually, Jordan caught up with him and he retreated back to his office like an apprehended French bulldog. He took his meeting on the 26th floor.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The worst thing about his current position was the lack of urgency. There wasn’t anything for him to do at work. He was in a place where the people around him generally cleared out by six o'clock. In the beginning of their time together, Jordan loftily implied that Tom went home too. If there was anything to be said about her, she was very good at herding him in certain directions without saying a word. Maybe Tom was afraid of her, just a little.</p>
<p>This left him at home alone for an unbearable amount of hours. Shiv's work hours were unpredictable but invariably long. She was in high demand, now that she was officially working for the family and picking up where Kendall left off pre-treason. Every now and then, she didn't come home altogether and neglected to notify him about it. Tom wasn't worried. Not much.</p>
<p>Tonight, he cooked himself dinner, following a new recipe for polenta. He felt somewhat scandalous. Shiv always discouraged the idea of him cooking, like it was a crime for him to do something so flagrantly pedestrian. She insisted that they hire someone for that, but he argued that they weren't home enough to need it. He was right, at least up until lately.</p>
<p>He rushed to get everything cleaned up and squared away before she came home, but there was no sign of her yet. There were moments when he thought he heard someone on the other side of the front door, so he stopped what he was doing and listened. False alarm. Nobody there.</p>
<p>He let Mondale out to wander the halls and followed the dog's path. Mondale's nails clacked against the hardwood floor and the sound reverberated inside one empty room after the other. Everything was so clean and new; it was almost a year now since they moved in, but there were some rooms they furnished but never touched.</p>
<p>After some thorough sniffing, Mondale decided on a guest room to plant down inside. Tom couldn't remember choosing the decor for that particular room. A modern-looking grid shelf on the farthest wall housed stacks of books and trinkets he had never seen before. It suggested a very lived-in feel, but lived in by someone neither Shiv nor Tom ever were.</p>
<p>Mondale stood in front of the couch, peering at Tom expectantly. Tom came over to sit down and Mondale leapt up to settle down beside him with a huff.</p>
<p>"You're a good boy," Tom reassured him quietly. He gave the dog a pat along his side. "I could never leave you for Hong Kong. We're better than that, aren't we?"</p>
<p>Mondale yawned widely.</p>
<p>"Yeah, we are."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A big, fat stack of documents was waiting on his desk when he came to work the next day. The top few pages dryly outlined the responsibilities and requirements of the proposed position in Asia, as though the job wasn't designed to specifically fuck him. To his surprise, the position had a decent salary and benefits. To his utter fucking dismay, the proposal suggested that he was expected to hold the position for "a minimum of five years".</p>
<p>"Mr. Roy wants the letter of intent signed by next week," Jordan said from over his shoulder.</p>
<p>"This came from Logan? He told you that himself?"</p>
<p>She shrugged. "It was implied that it comes from him. You should sign it."</p>
<p>"They're really on my ass about this. You read this thing?"</p>
<p>Jordan appraised him wanly. "Got any better offers on the line?" She filed out of his office before Tom could respond.</p>
<p>Tom picked up the stack of fuck-you papers and cast it to the far corner of his desk. He left his office to follow up with Clark about a thing and did his rounds of housekeeping. He managed to avoid returning to his office until the late afternoon. </p>
<p>When he got back to his desk, he tapped his phone to wake it up. There was an unread text from Shiv: "Signed it yet?"</p>
<p>He texted back, "Five years??"</p>
<p>"It's an estimate. Legal bullshit etc."</p>
<p>Tom slid the hiring paperwork closer to him once more and aimlessly flipped through the pages. Then he stood and circled around to the seat near the window. He looked out into the street, taking in the stream of people in suits and skirts and heels on the sidewalks. He watched the congested arteries of traffic stretch out and beyond. Tom wondered if he could bear to leave this. He wondered who he'd be without it.</p>
<p>It had been decades since he last spent any substantial amount of time away from New York. If he was remembering correctly, the last time he spent more than a month anywhere else was when he was 18 years old and getting ready for college. He was a doe-eyed moron back then, naturally. He was aimless and only understood the weight of moving to the city in an abstract way. It wasn't until the end of his sophomore year that he got a taste for getting ahead. There were fraternities, internships, interviews, handshakes, and then Waystar Royco. It sounded simple, but he worked his ass off. He knew the name of the game and all the rules, and much of what he learned was from trial and error.</p>
<p>And yet, he didn't really know where to place where he was now. A part of him recognized it as the stage in a football player's career where he fumbles the ball at the big game, so the coach takes him out back to cut off an arm as penance. You know the one.</p>
<p>He heard his phone buzz on his desk. Shiv really wasn't going to leave it alone for the day. Resignedly, Tom picked up his phone to read what she had to say. The text said, “We should probably talk” which was concerning. Then his focus flit upward to the top of the screen and he realized the text was from Greg.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I didn't mean to blow up on you like that the other day."</p>
<p>Tom grinned, humoring him. Greg was vague about meeting up, so Tom was especially intrigued after their lukewarm encounter a handful of days ago. They met at an outdoor brewery, a wholly pretentious place they would have typically landed in two or three bars in, back when they did that sort of thing together. Tom didn’t mind it. It was quiet enough to have conversation and Tom appreciated the chance to get some fresh air.</p>
<p>"I think I misunderstood you, maybe,” Greg offered. “Why else would you start talking to me like that, all of sudden? But now it makes sense, you know? I didn't - I didn't realize that you came to see me because you were getting out too."</p>
<p>"What do you mean?"</p>
<p>"I read an article. It was, like, brief but--" Greg's sentence trailed off when he noticed Tom making a face. "The thing about you dropping out of Waystar? Is that - is that not true or?"</p>
<p>"Where did you hear that from?"</p>
<p>"It was, um. Let me find it." Greg thumbed through his phone, while Tom tapped a rhythm on the table impatiently. "Okay, here." He handed the phone to Tom from across the table.</p>
<p>Tom skimmed the article, examining the details. "The Correspondent? That's one of ours--or, I mean, one of Waystar's. What the fuck?" The whole thing read like an obituary. The article included a quote from Logan, something vague crafted by an assistant, as per the usual. Tom scanned the page, scrolling up and down for answers. Finally, he looked up, "Are you bullshitting me? What is this? Is this some sort of digital terrorism? Are you terrorizing me digitally, Greg?"</p>
<p>"What? No. That's not-- No, I wouldn't do that to you. You can look it up yourself. The news is all over."</p>
<p>They were quiet for a while. Tom sat at the table, hunched over his own phone. He googled himself and found article after article. He catalogued the variations in info, wording, and syntax from one news outlet to the other, hoping it would tell him how the fuck any of this happened. Tom sat back against his seat and rubbed at his forehead.</p>
<p>Greg asked, "Are you going to push back? I mean, clearly you didn't sign off on this, so this is, you know..."</p>
<p>Tom groaned.</p>
<p>"Do you need to call someone? Shiv, maybe?"</p>
<p>Tom felt like death washed over him. He felt like he was really dead.</p>
<p>Greg kept talking, filling the silence. "In retrospect, I'm not surprised something like this happened. It's kind of their thing, right? It was sort of a matter of time. This is how they operate? Like, you're standing there, minding your own business, when all of a sudden you've got a knife in your--"</p>
<p>"Greg."</p>
<p>"Yeah, Tom?”</p>
<p>"Get me something stronger to drink."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He and Greg hit one more bar. It was a dive-y place they stumbled upon on their way down the block. “We’ll take it easy. Not go too hard tonight,” Tom said. “We’ve got jobs to get to tomorrow, right?” He laughed, because it was hilarious.</p>
<p>“Yeah, my place isn’t far from here. We can go there after this?”</p>
<p>They clinked glasses, downed their shots, and made their way out.</p>
<p>They landed in Greg’s living room, sipping beer. Tom kicked off his shoes and rested his back against the armrest of the couch, while Greg nabbed a throw pillow and lied flat on the floor parallel to the couch. Tom felt a needling urgency in the back of his head; he wanted to hold onto this feeling of comfort and familiarity. He wanted to memorize the planes of Greg’s face, because there was a time when he thought he’d never see it again. </p>
<p>Tom said his name and he looked over. “I’m sorry, you know. I never got to tell you how sorry I am.”</p>
<p>Greg sat upright, folding his legs under him. “For what?”</p>
<p><i>For what?</i> Tom looked down at the floor, thinking of all the things he could be sorry for. He remembered the argument they had before they stopped talking. He didn’t fully remember everything that was said, but he knows he came away from it feeling hollow after yelling at Greg until his throat was sore. Despite the summer heat, he spent the ride home shivering like he couldn’t get warm. It wasn’t anything like the confrontation they had way back in that joke of a safe room. That was nothing. It bothered him for a lot longer than it should have, like lingering pain from a sprained ligament.</p>
<p>Tom said, “I don’t know why I was so angry at you, specifically."</p>
<p>“You were just scared, I think? I was too.”</p>
<p>Tom shook his head. That wasn’t it.</p>
<p>“You know, you can crash here whenever you need, Tom. Okay? You can come over. Because I know what it’s like when you’re, you know, a target.”</p>
<p>“Pfft. I’m not a target. Not like you were.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, maybe. Maybe not. That was really kind of a bad time. It was - it’s really isolating.”</p>
<p>“What did they do?” he asked, regretting it the second the question came out. He didn’t want to know, not really. Back then, he had the opportunity to look into what was going on with that whole front, but chose to look the other way.</p>
<p>Greg shrugged, fingers running over the fibers of the rug idly. “Intimidation tactics. People watching me all the time. Stuff like that. Sometimes there was violence, which was my least favorite.”</p>
<p>Tom frowned. He brought himself down to the floor with Greg, leaning his back against the foot of the couch. He wanted to touch him.</p>
<p>“Oh, you know. Dude, there was this one chunk of time they tried to lure me in with, um, sex workers? Escorts?” He grimaced. “They were all these smart, good-looking women. Good - good people, in actuality? Good people given shitty responsibilities.”</p>
<p>“Did you, uh-- did they...“</p>
<p>He shook his head. “I knew pretty quickly that they weren’t who they said they were. I got to talk to a few of them for a while, which was cool. But I mean.” He wrinkled his nose at the idea: “I didn’t sleep with them or anything. Later, Kendall told me that it was a good thing I didn’t, because that’s how they would’ve got me.”</p>
<p>Tom wondered what he would’ve done in that situation. It occurred to him that he wouldn’t have been as smart about it. Not as lucky.</p>
<p>“I still don’t really know what Kendall meant by that.” Greg laughed. “But it’s ridiculous, because they should, like, know better? For such an intricate operation, they really didn’t get the details down about me.”</p>
<p>“What do you mean?”</p>
<p>Greg turned his head to look at him, brow furrowed like he only just realized Tom was in the room. The dead stop in conversation put Tom on high alert, like there was something Tom wasn’t getting. Greg brought his knees up and rested his arms on them, hiding half of his face. "I'd miss you, if you left," he said, voice low. "I've missed this, a lot."</p>
<p>Tom swore it was the alcohol, but his face turned hot and his eyes welled up. He was just tired. Really tired. He looked away. "I should get going. Maybe - I think we drank too much." </p>
<p>He stood up slowly and his heart was pounding in his ears. Greg looked up at him, so Tom lent him a hand to stand up. Both at full height, Tom bizarrely forgot how tall Greg was. He was mesmerized by it and the dim glow of the lamp illuminating Greg's face. He realized then that Greg looked older. More weather-worn and sure. That was what was different about him.</p>
<p>Greg smiled at him and it wasn't the dopey smile he remembered from staff meetings or from across a dining room table. Tom didn’t understand it. Greg took Tom’s arm by the wrist gingerly, his thumb sliding upward along the inside. Tom didn't know what it meant, but he knew how it felt. It quieted everything that worried him from before. It felt like forgiveness or like melting. Tom stopped breathing.</p>
<p>Then something cut into the moment. Greg’s gaze dropped to the floor and he retracted his hand. “You should get back. To Shiv. She’s probably waiting.”</p>
<p>“She’s really not,” Tom sighed. He felt off-kilter like his brain was scrambled. He fetched his phone from his jacket pocket and texted the car service his location, relying mostly on muscle memory. </p>
<p>Greg stood in the middle of the room with his head bowed and his hands clenched at his side. Tom crossed the room then. He wrapped a hand around Greg’s wrist with his thumb pressed against the delicate skin there. Greg looked at him, eyes dark, and it was permission enough. Tom kissed him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tom felt like a live wire. He couldn’t keep still on his way home that night. Jacked up on adrenaline, he thought about his life. His goddamn life, his marriage, his shit-fucking predicament. He rolled the car window open and shut repeatedly, stamping down the urge to stick his head out and scream.</p>
<p>Walking into his shared living space, he swung the front door open until it clunked against the opposite wall with a delightfully horrid sound. He flipped on whatever lights he could reach and waltzed over to Mondale’s prison.</p>
<p>“Mondale! I grant you your freedom.” He unhooked a segment of the fence and managed to wrench it open wide. “Go, go!”</p>
<p>The dog didn’t budge.</p>
<p>“No, seriously. Out!”</p>
<p>Mondale moved out of the perimeter of the fence at a moderate pace. Satisfied, Tom stumbled down the hall, certain that Shiv would be home.</p>
<p>“Shiv, what the free-flying fuck?” Tom inquired loudly.</p>
<p>Shiv sat in the vanity room, taking off her makeup in front of the mirror. She regarded him flatly. “That’s one way to say hello. What've you been up to?”</p>
<p>“Was there something,” he sat at her feet, ”you needed to tell me? Something important, maybe, something dire.”</p>
<p>“What’s up with you? Why the fuck is your dog out?” Mondale was wandering the room. Shiv craned her neck and peered into Tom’s eyes. “Oh, this is alcohol talking.”</p>
<p>“Nevermind it, Shiv! There’s news out there. It's all over. About me and my job, for fuck’s sake.”</p>
<p>She stood, prying herself from Tom’s grasp. She signaled for him to get up. He did, on his own with difficulty. She stood with her shoulders squared and her jaw set. She knew what he was talking about, he was sure of it.</p>
<p>“Yeah, there’s news,” she said.</p>
<p>“And what does this mean? I'm being fucked around with at work every day, and now this? I was supposed to find out that I’m out of a job the next time I google myself?" His voice was raised. Mondale was barking. "Did you crowdtest for the punchiest headline? Which of the following is clearest that this guy is <i>fucked</i>!”</p>
<p>“Tom, you--”</p>
<p>“How am I supposed to take this? Huh? Like, what is it supposed to mean? Is this one of those quaint high society things where you take away my job so the divorce is cleaner?”</p>
<p>Shiv raised her brow at that. Her mouth opened and shut. She rubbed at her forehead, then said, “I can’t talk to you while you’re flying off the handle like this. I’m gonna get you a glass of water and we’ll talk this over in the morning. Take Mondale and put him in his thing, okay?”</p>
<p>Tom wanted to say no. He wanted to duke this out until the sun came up. But when Shiv breezed past him and left the room, his energy plummeted. He was left alone with his reflection in the mirror. His heart sank at the sight of himself, red-faced and ugly. He looked away, shoulders heavy with the things he said.</p>
<p>At a loss, he took Mondale with him to a guest room down the hall and shut the door behind them. He undid his belt and stepped out of his pants and shoes. Sitting at the edge of the bed, he unbuttoned one or two buttons on his shirt, then gave up. He laid back and closed his eyes.</p>
<p>Feeling wretched, he rooted around in his mind for some source of comfort. Then he remembered the warmth of Greg’s mouth against his and the dull ache of wanting more, more. He fell asleep.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tom sipped hot water out of a paper cup while he sat at his desk like the sad sack of shit that he was. He sat around pensively with his office lights out and the curtains drawn. He figured Jordan would understand and not judge, considering the circumstances. Actually, she would judge. To hell with it, anyway.</p>
<p>As promised, Shiv had cleared things up with him that morning. He was hungover and steeped with guilt from yelling at Shiv like that. He told Shiv as much and she was gentle with him. She told him that he wasn't necessarily out of a job. It was true that he would no longer be a part of Waystar, but rather a Waystar-adjacent company in Hong Kong. The press release was largely just noise to placate shareholders and public interest and Shiv was sorry that she didn't warn him ahead of time. However, she strongly suggested that he sign the hiring paperwork as soon as possible.</p>
<p>He needed to be better to Shiv. He realized that he lost sight of his priorities. What was important to Shiv was important to him, especially when it came to the company. When he got into his office after their conversation, he had a pen in his hand before his ass hit the seat. He was ready to sign. And then he wasn't.</p>
<p>He kept picking up his phone. He wanted to text Greg all about it, but he didn't know where to start. He wrote the beginnings of "Shiv said" or "I'm not fired" or "Do you think I should" or "Hey". He knew that it was a bad idea, so he cleared out the text box and shoved his phone aside. This happened several times in the space of a couple hours. He just knew that, if he talked it through with Greg, he'd see things a little clearer. That was how it used to be when Greg was still around. It didn't have anything to do with the night before.</p>
<p>He noticed on his agenda that he didn’t have any meetings scheduled for the day. He didn’t have any throughout the coming week, besides the general all-staff meetings or the ones where he was invited but not even remotely relevant to the meeting subject. He called Jordan in.</p>
<p>She peeked her head in through the doorway. "Yep?"</p>
<p>"I'm gonna take a half day."</p>
<p>"Not feeling any better? Or is it something more serious like that stack of paperwork on your desk?"</p>
<p>Tom pursed his lips, hoping it looked something like a smile. "Little bit of both."</p>
<p>"I'll see you Monday?"</p>
<p>"Can't get rid of me that easily."</p>
<p>Tom went home, put on some comfy clothes, and ordered lunch to get delivered. He started the day feeling sorry for himself and he got the sense that that was just how the day was going to go for him. He let himself wallow in it, knowing it was irreversible for the time being. He wanted to forget the job decision for the weekend, forget anything pressing that he had to deal with. After lunch, he placed his phone on the kitchen counter and didn't touch it for the rest of the day, not even once.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Enough lazing around throughout the afternoon inspired him to get on the treadmill after dinner. Shiv arrived home well after dark when Tom was rehydrating in the kitchen. He downed his glass of water and greeted her with a wet kiss to the side of her face.</p>
<p>Shiv wiggled out of his grasp with a yelp and wiped a palm down the spot he got all wet. She said, “Hey yourself, Stinky. What's up?" </p>
<p>He leaned back against the counter and watched Shiv unplug his phone to charge hers. "Nothing much. I feel rested, feeling a lot better. Ready for the weekend."</p>
<p>She commented archly, "Jordan tells me you haven’t signed the letter of intent on the job offer yet.” Her eyebrow was raised, but she wasn't mad yet.</p>
<p>"Uh oh," Tom said lightly, but not too lightly. "Am I in trouble?"</p>
<p>"It’s already been a handful of days.”</p>
<p>“Right. I know. It’s just... it’s a tough-y. You know? I wanted to give it the weekend to decide.”</p>
<p>Shiv blinked. “Cutting it close.”</p>
<p>“Are we?”</p>
<p>Shiv paused then. She mutely waved him over, guiding him to sit with her on the strategy couch. The dark grey one that Tom couldn't help but associate with bad news. Now it was getting serious. Shiv explained, “Logan’s giving you until Monday end of day to sign.”</p>
<p>“Okay. Or what?”</p>
<p>“Tom. It’s this or nothing. You get it, right? You don’t sign it and you’re out. For good.“</p>
<p>“Wait, so if I don’t take it, then,” Tom furrowed his brow. “It’s not just a temporary benching. This is it?”</p>
<p>“Was I not clear on this, before?”</p>
<p>“Okay.” He looked ahead of him at the floor while the anxious tension rose in his lungs. "Okay, this is-- Can I negotiate contract terms before we finalize?"</p>
<p>“I'll see what we can do, but you should know, my dad's head is spinning on his shoulders like the fucking exorcist lately. He's not totally amenable to adjustments."</p>
<p>He tried to smile. “By any chance, could this be a classic Abraham and Isaac move from your dad? And later on, we’ll all be on a hill together, laughing it off as wacky hijinks?”</p>
<p>Shiv, who had never read a bible in her life, remained unmoved. "He’s not going to backtrack on this one. We legitimately need more manpower in Asia. I can give you the weekend to sort your shit out. Me and Roman are gonna be out in Washington until Sunday night, so you'll have space to think it through.”</p>
<p>“You don't need me to come with?" He looked up at her then, hopeful. He wished he hadn't.</p>
<p>"It's best if you didn't."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Shiv left early the next day. Tom got out of bed to see her off, rumpled and bleary. The sun was barely out and he briefly considered going back to bed, then decided against it. He wanted to go somewhere for the day, do something. He brushed his teeth, dressed himself in a casual sweater, made himself look presentable for the day. He checked his phone with one hand and let Mondale out with the other.</p>
<p>He lounged on the couch with the dog as he scrolled through the news for a while. He checked for local events, but the idea of going out on his own didn't sit well with him. Tom put his phone on the coffee table and put his arms around Mondale who remained placid and aloof. Unfortunately, he got to thinking about the job. Relocating to Asia was an absurd idea. He wanted to be excited about the possibilities, but it just made him feel nauseous.</p>
<p>He stood up and opened as many curtains around the house as he could. He called his mom. They talked about the weather, the family, the rapidly declining state of the porch deck in the backyard. He asked her about the job and broached the potential of moving to Hong Kong.</p>
<p>He ended the call not feeling any better.</p>
<p>Tom took a deep breath in, then out. He put a coat on and called a car to take him out by the water. Once he got out, he took some time to breathe some more while he leaned against a rail and watched the ebb and flow of the water. It was as though he had been dropped off on a different planet. The airflow was different and Tom felt slightly buoyant.</p>
<p>Finally, he texted Greg, "Hey".</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The combination of sun and a faint wind made for a pleasant day. Tom wandered the docks. Walking by himself on a sunny Saturday morning, he tried casual anonymity on for size. He could be anyone he wanted to be. He could be somebody he liked being. That wasn't who he was now, or maybe ever been. Not for lack of trying. The thought itched in his head and thinking about it was like scratching a festering wound.</p>
<p>He flexed his fingers and stretched them wide at his sides. He unclenched his jaw. He thought about the size of the ocean and the length of the coast. He wondered, if he kept walking, how far could he go? How far would he go before he forgot how to be who he was now? He thought, if he left right now, would it matter?</p>
<p>Done with walking, he checked his watch and settled down on an empty bench. In time, Greg joined him there. Tom nodded in greeting.</p>
<p>“Hey, man.” Greg took off his sunglasses and sat down next to him. He looked wonderfully expensive. Tom did his best not to be distracted by it. Greg asked, “What’s going on? Why are we here?”</p>
<p>Now that he was finally with him, Tom didn’t know where to start. “I can’t simply want some time together with my old pal Greg?”</p>
<p>“Right, yeah. You can, I guess. But this is - This is kind of weird? I’m just gonna point that out right now.”</p>
<p>“What? What’s weird about it?”</p>
<p>“We’re on a pier - or something, and - and there’s, like, seagulls flying around. Is this some kind of secret meeting?”</p>
<p>“Yes, that’s exactly what it is. It’s a secret meeting.”</p>
<p>“Okay,” Greg said skeptically.</p>
<p>Tom took in the sight of him then. He wondered who was dressing Greg these days, because Tom wasn’t feeding him recommendations anymore. He regretted not meeting him at Greg’s place. He was ready to throttle him already. But he reminded himself that he came to talk things through.</p>
<p>“I wanted to discuss some developments. Bounce some ideas off you.” He cleared his throat and asked, “Is that okay?”</p>
<p>“Sure.”</p>
<p>“Let’s take a walk, shall we?” </p>
<p>It occurred to him quickly that he had little to update Greg on. He already knew most of it, but Tom told him anyway. Greg listened and nodded while Tom talked. Tom talked and talked. At some point in the conversation, Greg placed a hand on Tom’s shoulder. He halted them to a stop and brought them face to face. </p>
<p>“Thoughts?” Tom asked.</p>
<p>"Yeah, so here's the thing," he said, taking a step closer to Tom. He kept his voice low. "I have a lot of opinions on what you should do, and I can tell you. But, uh. I think there might be a conflict of interest here."</p>
<p>"Why, is this a PGM-Waystar thing?"</p>
<p>"No. Well, I don't know. Maybe. But it's also - it's an 'us' thing?" Greg stepped back, cautious.</p>
<p>"I'm not understanding."</p>
<p>He flustered slightly. "Can we be totally honest with each other?"</p>
<p>"No," Tom said immediately. Greg gave him a look. "Alright, okay. Yes."</p>
<p>Greg studied him for a long while, squinting in the light. He swallowed visibly and cast his eyes to the floor. “Let's say you choose not to sign and you're out of the company. What’s the, uh, situation with you and Shiv?”</p>
<p>“The situation? The situation doesn't change either way I choose. She's my wife.”</p>
<p>Greg didn't say anything to that, but he clearly had thoughts. He looked up at him once, then twice. Tom wanted him to say something. There was certainly something coming.</p>
<p>“Just say it, Greg."</p>
<p>"I don't--" he started and stopped. He sighed and brushed hair out of his face. Then, he said in no uncertain terms: "As long as you and Shiv are together, I don't think we should see each other."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. saying goodbye, 'cause you're giving it up</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>On Monday morning, Tom signed the papers. He hunkered down at his desk and filled out the entire packet of hiring paperwork. He made phone calls to track down his immunization records. He weighed the options given to him for opening a bank account in Hong Kong. He skimmed and signed the section about shipping his remains, should he meet his untimely death abroad. The whole shebang. He was decided. He was ready.</p><p>In the following days, he was briefed on the transition and he tried to think positively about it. Every day, he looked around the office and knew in his gut that it was time for him to move on. He just hoped that this was what moving on felt like.</p><p> </p><p>Logan held a lavish ball in celebration of Marcia’s birthday. It was the showiest parade of apology Tom had ever seen Logan muster. He wondered what it was all about, but preferred not to get into it. There were more people in attendance than there were at his and Shiv’s wedding. </p><p>Roman wound himself underfoot as they both entered the main hall. He said, "Better watch yourself, Tom-Wamb. I hear Nan Pierce is due for an appearance and she's not a fan of you."</p><p>"Why on earth would <i>Nan Pierce</i> show up here?"</p><p>“Oh, you haven't heard?" he asked with a toady smile, knowing full well he hadn't. "We're in for a sexy time tonight. We’ve been baring our pink, puckered assholes to potential buyers, just to get them slavering over ATN. Drum up the value. We get Pierce checking our sweet asses out and it’ll draw up the price, for sure.”</p><p>“Logan would go for that? Selling ATN out to Pierce?”</p><p>Roman scoffed. “Fuck no he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t actually sell, not over his dead, rigor mortified body. He's even got me throwing wrenches in the gears of this thing. You know, if Nan's in for a fight, she might bring Greg as her plus-one. Show him off, just to see the steam blow out of Dad's ears.”</p><p>Tom shook his head. “Greg would have some real nerve showing up here.”</p><p>“Yeah, he's a nervy little shark tooth on a gold chain. Fuck him. If he does show up, you can hold him down and I’ll stab him with a butter knife. It’ll be fun.”</p><p>Before Tom could respond, Shiv swept him up in her orbit. “Tom, I want you to meet someone. This is Yi Feng Zhen. Mr. Zhen manages the regional parks division in, what was it? Southern China?”</p><p>“That’s correct. Pleased to meet you.” Mr. Zhen extended his hand to Tom. “I’ve heard some great things about your work with parks.”</p><p>He shook his hand. “Tom Wambsgans. Glad you could make it all the way out here. I’d love to hear more about the great things I’ve done.” They laughed. He felt Shiv slink away behind him with a pat on the shoulder.</p><p>In the corner of his eye, a tall gangly figure stuck out in the crowd. Tom aggressively avoided looking in that direction.</p><p>Mr. Zhen said, “I expect we’ll be seeing a lot of each other, once you start.”</p><p>“I hear Hong Kong’s parks have been a struggle to maintain. Poor numbers across the board. I take it I have my work cut out for me?”</p><p>“The man you’re taking over for was lacking in sensibilities for western appeal. We need someone more like you.”</p><p>“Great. I’ll take it.” Tom waved a waiter over and grabbed two flutes of champagne. He handed one to Mr. Zhen. “To parks in Asia.”</p><p>The man standing before him looked comically severe for someone who oversaw operations for a theme park. He had graying hair and thickly arching eyebrows. He looked like he had never met a child in his whole life. His expression remained neutral as he said to Tom, “You know, I’m actually very interested in your work with global news broadcasting. What are your thoughts on PGM's potential absorption of ATN?”</p><p>Tom froze. “Sorry? When did - when-- How public is this news, exactly?”</p><p>“There's been nothing official. Water cooler talk. Things you hear through the grapevine.”</p><p>“The grapevine gets shorter and shorter every day." All of a sudden, everyone seemed to know more about his own company than him. Tom chuckled, feeling himself sweat under his collar. "If you’ll excuse me.” He shook hands with Mr. Zhen and took off. He swiveled his head around to find Shiv.</p><p>Of course, he spotted Greg talking to Tabitha instead. Roman milled around behind Greg's back. Tom met eyes with Roman whose face lit up immediately. Roman procured a butter knife from his coat pocket. He waggled it suggestively and gestured towards Greg.</p><p>Tom had half a mind to let Roman go ahead and stab him. He called out, "Um, Greg! I'd like a word with you. Now, please." He grabbed him by the arm and dragged him across the room and through a long hallway. He found an unlocked door. He shoved Greg into the room and followed him in, locking the door behind them. The room was as ornate as the rest of the property, with a brown and red palette. In an attempt to place the overall aesthetic of the decor, what came to mind was the room Abraham Lincoln died in. In any case, the place was empty. Tom straightened out his suit jacket.</p><p>"Hey, Tom."</p><p>"What the fuck are you doing here?" Tom hissed. His heart was pounding. He felt like he was an erupting power plant. "Are you honestly dicking me around right now?"</p><p>“I know. I know it’s not great that I’m here.” He had the decency to look guilty, at least. “But we should also probably not be in here? In this room together?”</p><p>“What’s all this about ATN being sold out to PGM? Is this you? Are you feeding them information about us?”</p><p>“No. Seriously?” Greg was far more successful at keeping his voice down. “What do you think I've got going on over there? You really think I’m, like, selling myself out like that?”</p><p>“I wasn’t aware Nan Pierce was so keen on fraternizing with clueless interns.”</p><p>Greg shot back, “Well, you were.”</p><p>Tom was appalled.</p><p>Greg ducked his head, apologetic. “I’m being careful. I signed an NDA with you guys. You would know if I was breaking it, believe me. Besides, why does it even matter--“</p><p>“You? Believe you? Fool me fucking once, Greg.” Tom savored the sick feeling in his stomach from hearing Greg tell him to believe him. He almost laughed.</p><p>“I told you to stay away.”</p><p>“Why are you here?”</p><p>Greg started pacing the room, posture stiff. He glanced up at Tom, then looked away. He said, “You took the job.”</p><p>“Yeah. I did. What about it?”</p><p>“When are you leaving?”</p><p>“In a little over a month.”</p><p>Greg stopped pacing and turned to him with his eyes wide. Tom cocked his head with a sour look on his face, letting the silence fall around them like a wet blanket.</p><p>“I...” Greg started to say. He shook his head. The rest came out in a jumbled rush: “I don’t want you to leave.”</p><p>Tom took in a long breath. He wanted to be angry. He wanted to bark at him until that tight feeling in his chest went away. He couldn’t form a single word. He crossed the room in two steps, then shoved Greg’s shoulder. Tom stood there with his arms open, begging for a fight. Looking injured, Greg pawed at him listlessly. Greg’s hands settled on top of Tom’s shoulders. Tom wanted more. So much more. He caved then, kissed him.</p><p>Greg reared back with a little gasp. In no time at all, he brought a hand to the side of Tom’s neck and kissed him back, hungrily.</p><p>Bony hipbones jabbed into Tom’s side. Tom scrabbled at Greg’s arms, wanting him closer. He gave a needy moan against Greg’s mouth, lightheaded and out of his mind. His back knocked into a cabinet which made a clattering sound. He was sure he’d fall over, but Greg held him up. Then he held him back.</p><p>Greg detached himself from Tom. Tom propped himself up against the cabinet, his brain foggy like he was hypnotized. Greg spoke, pulling him out of it. “We should get back.”</p><p>“Mhm. Yeah.”</p><p>“Tom?" He straightened himself out, adjusting his hair and his tie. He cleared his throat. "What I said still stands, you know. About us. About you and Shiv. And the company. That’s how it has to be.”</p><p>"That's how it has to be." Tom nodded. He waved off the feeling of guilt that prickled at him. He drew his palms down the side of his pants and focused on the sensation. "I guess this is goodbye then."</p><p>By the door, Greg shifted on his feet. He said nothing, leaving Tom alone in the room.</p><p> </p><p>Tom's presence at work was very much a formality at that point. His desk was cleared out in little time, since it hadn't been his for long in the first place. Jordan found employment elsewhere. It felt a lot like the last weeks of school before summer. Tom sat in his barren office, looking around for anyone who could acknowledge that feeling with him. It was business as usual for everyone else.</p><p>Tom took the elevator to his old ATN floor. He worked the floor a little, shaking hands and half-remembering names. It seemed as though they needed a morale booster and Tom was happy to supply it. Half of the desks and offices were empty, which wasn't so much of a surprise to Tom, considering the major lay-offs that coincided with his transfer to corporate headquarters. Nonetheless, the sight was jarring.</p><p>He spotted Jonah from across the hall. Tom sped towards him and witnessed him tense up when he noticed him coming. Tom sort of loved it. He chuckled, greeting Jonah boisterously, "Good to see you, man. Long time no see."</p><p>"Hey, Tom. Congratulations on the position abroad."</p><p>"Uh huh. I just thought I'd pay you peasants a visit, see how you all are faring in the midst of uncertain times."</p><p>“Yeah.” Jonah moved in closer to Tom and lowered his voice, "You know, since you're leaving, could you give us any news from above, like what's going on with us and PGM? There's talk, but..."</p><p>"You don't know?" Tom grinned. "Come on, let's take a room. Tell me what you know and maybe I can fill you in between the lines."</p><p>"Oh. Okay," he responded, surprised. They found an empty conference room with stacks of chairs and a single podium. Tom motioned for him to sit. Jonah settled into a seat and started talking. "So, on one side, there's Cyd telling us there's no chance of a buy-out and it's all bullshit. But there's news online, like reputable outlets. Real news out there about Waystar making moves. And then we all saw you leaving Waystar and now we're sure there must be something going on."</p><p>“That’s all you know?” Tom asked.</p><p>“Yeah, that’s it.”</p><p>"You’re thinking there’s some kind of connection between my promotion and the PGM buy-out?" Tom laughed. "I might be a key player up there, but that would be, y’know, just wild. You ATN minions sure have a lot of time on your hands."</p><p>"So, it's not true? ATN's not getting bought out? Because if it is, it would be a massacre, right?"</p><p>"Oh, Jonah. Buddy. I'm not confirming or denying anything. But keep the theories flowing. It's good stuff, truly.”</p><p>Jonah’s shoulders fell. “Wait, hold on. Can you at least tell us if we’re going to stay afloat into the end of Spring? Anything, literally anything at all and I won’t tell anyone it came from you.”</p><p>Tom stood, clapping Jonah on the arm. “Great seeing you, champ.” He fled the scene and caught an elevator.</p><p> </p><p>Tom and Shiv’s one-year wedding anniversary rolled in. With the amount of free time he had on his hands, it was easy for Tom to plan a get-together brunch with close friends and family. He made it tasteful and not too far from the city. They brunched and mingled under a large canopy filled to the brim with flowers and delicate finger food.</p><p>He planned it fully in tribute to Shiv, taking extra care to accommodate for her tastes. She had been too caught up with work that she didn’t have time to look over any of the decisions. He decided he wanted to surprise her. Tom watched her expression as she took the party in.</p><p>“Did you see the daffodils?” he asked her.</p><p>“Yeah, they’re hard to miss.”</p><p>“They came from a farm in Ireland. Imported directly.”</p><p>“Uh huh.” Shiv wandered deeper into the crowd, leading them both to where Logan was sitting alone. She rubbed his shoulder until he looked up at her. "Hey, Dad. Doing okay?"</p><p>Logan greeted her, smiling beleagueredly. "Siobhan, take a seat. Sit with me for a while."</p><p>"Thanks for coming, Logan," Tom leaned in while Shiv squeezed into the seat next to her father. "We really appreciate you attending our humble little gathering." He settled in next to Shiv.</p><p>Shiv started to say something, but her phone vibrated on the table, cutting her off. She glanced at it and immediately pushed back her seat. "I'll be right back."</p><p>That left Tom and Logan at a table together. Tom smiled. "She's been such a busy bee lately. Hard at work."</p><p>Logan said nothing, suddenly highly interested in the refreshment table.</p><p>"Can I get you anything to drink?" Tom offered.</p><p>"Nah," Logan said. He turned to him then, peering at him as though he was trying to remember something. “You've taken the job in Hong Kong. Smart of you to step up.”</p><p>“It’s a fine opportunity. I’m thankful for it.”</p><p>“Even smarter of Shiv to suggest it.”</p><p>Tom was done being surprised by new information. Besides, it wasn’t new at all. Just confirmed suspicions.</p><p>He was about to agree with him about how smart Shiv was, but Logan spoke, “No time like the present for leaving behind a grandson, before you ship off. Time's running out. A prick like you must be at least slightly virile when no one is around.”</p><p>“Sure. I’ll get to it." Tom moved to get out of his seat. "Maybe take Shiv out back real quick and get working on it. If the party’s a-rocking, don’t come knocking!” Tom laughed like he wanted to die. He cringed deeply, astral projecting across the party. He bumped into Kendall.</p><p>“Oh. Hey, man.” Kendall shook Tom’s hand. “Happy anniversary.”</p><p>“I’m glad you could come out,” he responded weakly.</p><p>“Yeah, you know how it is. I’ll jump at the chance at playing the pariah in a public venue. I’m sure you know the feeling.”</p><p>“Sure I do.” Commiserating with Kendall about his shattered repute held an irony that was not lost on Tom. Tom was banking on him declining the invitation, yet here he was. He had only seen Kendall in passing since his big press conference. They didn't have much to say to each other, but Kendall was still somehow a part of the family. In any case, he looked healthy. Tom knew better to comment on it. He realized they were staring at each other.</p><p>Kendall watched him realize that. He smiled a disingenuous smile and Tom was sure he was about to get punched in the face. Kendall said, “So, uh. Look, I have to ask: is everything, y’know, kosher between you and Greg?”</p><p>“Sorry?”</p><p>“He tells me you two are back on speaking terms.”</p><p>Tom made a vague gesture with his hands, unable to verbally articulate the terms he and Greg were on. Yes and no. Mostly no, but also very yes.</p><p>Kendall nodded, crowding in on Tom. “I just want to make sure that you’re not using him for one of your bullshit corporate intrigue ploys. I know nothing is sacred with people like us, but he’s making an effort to put all that behind him. Whatever your play is, I want you to shut it down.”</p><p>“It’s not like that. We're friends.”</p><p>“Uh huh.” He continued, unconvinced. “He was in a bad way, you know. Before. Don’t do that to him again.” Kendall backed off and finished his drink. He slapped him squarely on the back and said, “Happy day, Tom. Congrats to you and Shiv.”</p><p>Tom was glad to have given himself the opportunity to be piledriven into the floor repeatedly. The party was a great idea.</p><p> </p><p>The days moved fast. He flipped through the calendar app on his phone, counting the days before it was time for him to go. He thought of his coming absence as stuffing himself in a five-year time capsule. He wanted to get things in order so that, when he came back to all this five years in the future, he could seamlessly pick up from where he left off.</p><p>One night, he sat on the edge of the bed, watching Shiv brush out her hair with one hand and text on her phone with the other. He worried about her. About them. He wanted to talk about it. He said, "Shiv."</p><p>She grunted in a non-response. He walked over and stood behind her. He placed two hands on her shoulders and rubbed at her upper arms.</p><p>"One sec," she mumbled. She plugged in her phone to charge it, then put the phone and brush down on the table. She turned to face Tom. "Yeah."</p><p>"Just want to check in about, y'know, our plan." He sat down again, folding his hands in his lap. "For our plan for the next five years. And this is just me spit-balling, no biggie. We didn't have child-rearing in the mix there, right?"</p><p>"Like, us? With a child?" Shiv's face folded in on itself. She busied herself with the contents of her sock drawer. "Whose child would we be rearing?"</p><p>"No, nobody's. It's just something your dad said earlier."</p><p>Shiv laughed dryly, her back turned to Tom. "Of course he would. He thinks some kid could bump me out of the proxy battle."</p><p>"Some kid, like our own kid. Right."</p><p>She grimaced and stepped towards him with caution. "You're not..."</p><p>"No, no. I'm just-- This is purely a routine check, so I can sort of understand the trajectory of this thing. Five years, you know? It's kind of a long haul. I want to know how I can be useful to you, all the way on the other side of the world."</p><p>She sat down beside him on the bed. "I was thinking, this could be really good for us. Having time away from each other. I’ve been really busy with the company. I think it’ll be good for you to have your own thing.”</p><p>"We've always had our own thing."</p><p>"Sure. I just think this is a crucial time for us to learn how to stand on our own two feet.”</p><p>“We can easily stand on our own feet together. Can’t we? You and I are still on the same team.”</p><p>“Yeah, but here’s the thing: I've got this huge deal that I'm about to close and it's incredibly delicate. I have to keep this one close to the chest. You get it, right? I can't have third parties blowing this to bits."</p><p>"And - and in this situation," he said slowly, trying to understand, "I'm a third party."</p><p>There was a pause. Then she said, "Tom, believe me. You're a crucial component to this deal. Hence the job offer. I just can't tell you the whole of it, not at this point in the timeline."</p><p>Tom steadied his expression and sat very still. He wanted to ask many more questions and pry until he had it all unraveled. But he knew Shiv and he knew she would never budge. Shiv stood and, before she went away, Tom held her by the hand. He looked up at her and asked, "You still need me, right?"</p><p>"I will. I do. Just not right now, okay?"</p><p>"Okay."</p><p>Shiv left him to himself in the bedroom. There was a bad taste in his mouth. The room felt simultaneously too wide and too crowded. He didn't want to go to sleep. He needed to go somewhere. He put on his shoes and told Shiv that he was going out. "Don't wait up for me," he told her.</p><p>She said, "Sure." She waved him off, not acknowledging or even noticing that Tom left the house in a hoodie and pajamas.</p><p> </p><p>It was a little after 11 o’clock when he arrived at Greg’s place. Tom couldn’t look Greg in the eyes when he came in. Greg, looking cozy in sweats and a white undershirt, buzzed around him when he came in. “Did something happen? Did you and Shiv, um? Are, are we--?”</p><p>“Hush, Greg. Let’s just...” Tom grabbed him by the sleeve and tugged a little, enough to direct Greg to follow him down the hall to his bedroom. A single lamp on the bedside table cast an amber glow across the room. Tom felt soothed by the sight of it, remembering that time he slept in that bed and flung verbal barbs at Greg to soften the situation. That was the night before they destroyed (most of) the cruise documents. That was a long time ago, before Greg turned around and threw it in his face. Before Tom understood how he felt about Greg.</p><p>Wordlessly, Tom laid down on the bed, the plush white duvet sinking beneath his weight. He felt the tension in his body melt away with it.</p><p>“Oh, um. What are we-- Should I... Uh.” Greg fidgeted above him.</p><p>“This isn't--" Tom sighed. “Just lie down with me for a bit, okay?”</p><p>Greg obeyed. The bed shifted under him. It was an extraordinarily large bed. Kendall had hooked Greg up with a custom mattress long enough to fit Greg’s legs. A thoughtful gesture.</p><p>Together, Tom and Greg laid side by side on the bed, not touching and not talking. Tom looked up at the wide expanse of the ceiling. His mind latched onto the stark whiteness of it, lulling him into a meditative state.</p><p>Barely above a whisper, Tom said, “I used to be the level-headed one, you know. I used to be that for Shiv.”</p><p>“You’re not? Not anymore?”</p><p>“I don’t know what I am.”</p><p>“Well, if it helps any,” Greg offered, gently. “I’ve never thought of you as level-headed.”</p><p>Tom blinked up at the ceiling. “That doesn’t help at all.”</p><p>“Yeah, well, you know...” His sentence trailed off there, not making for a very compelling argument. Tentatively, he asked, “Does she know you’re here?”</p><p>“No. She just knows I’ll be gone.”</p><p>“Are you staying over?”</p><p>“Yes.” Tom didn’t want to leave room for Greg to turn him away. He knew that it was going against what Greg wanted for them. It was getting all muddled. He thought about Greg’s words: as long as you and Shiv are together. It was smart. It made sense. “Have you ever been involved with a married person before?”</p><p>“Is that - Is that, like, your version of dirty talk?”</p><p>“No, Jesus. It was an honest question.”</p><p>“Oh. Th-Then. The answer to that is maybe.” He paused. “Or, actually, yes. I didn’t, uh. Okay, so this is going to sound horrible, but I didn’t know he was married at the time.”</p><p>Tom laughed loudly, rumbling the bed. “You’re a fucking serial home wrecker.”</p><p>Greg covered his face with his hands. His knobby elbows cast shadows against the wall. “I’m not. I swear I’m not. It was bad, I know. I was, like, 20 years old and there were maybe a billion red flags that I ignored. It ended - it ended up a mess. Eventually, I skipped town and I never came back.”</p><p>“Look at you go. Like some kind of murderer or escaped convict.”</p><p>“Yeah, I don't know. It was my chosen solution to the problem.” Greg rose to a sitting position, crossing his legs underneath him. “I’ve done it maybe twice - or three times now. Not always because of some guy. It's easy enough to do, whenever. You know? Since I don’t really have family out here, in this country.”</p><p>Tom brought himself upright, propped up by his elbows. “Why didn’t you just run after you dropped the anvil on us?”</p><p>“I could have. But I felt like this was the place to be. I’m finally in a, uh. I’m in a place where I can do some good. Make real change happen.”</p><p>"You're making me sorry I asked."</p><p>Greg made a face, protesting. "You don't have to do that, you know. Not when it's just us. I know you don't really believe that."</p><p>Tom scoffed. "Have you met me?"</p><p>"Yeah, Tom. I have." With the lamp positioned behind Tom, the light cut across Greg's face sharply. Greg’s eyes were narrowed and dark. </p><p>With a look like that, Tom was helpless. It made a little part of him want to say, <i>Yes, yes. Please tell me who I am.</i> But now, he recognized that impulse as one of the guiding stars that led him to marry Shiv. Instead, he said, “Let’s get some rest. I’ll let you sleep in the bed this time.”</p><p>“Okay, great. Thanks, I guess. And you could, um.” Greg swallowed visibly. He placed two fingers against Tom’s shin with something like a nudge. “You could take the bed too, if you want.”</p><p>Tom considered his options. He couldn’t imagine leaving now. Tom wanted something, but he wasn’t sure what. The look on Greg’s face suggested that maybe he knew.</p><p>When they both got under the covers, Tom immediately felt like he was tasked with an operation that didn’t come with a manual. He felt out of sorts. He laid on his side with his back facing Greg, trying to remember how to relax. A hand brushed against the space between his shoulder blades, so Tom turned his head. Greg hovered over him. Tom searched within himself to muster a snippy comment, but failed.</p><p>Tom sighed softly and rolled onto his back to reach out a hand. Greg’s stubbled jaw prickled against the pad of his thumb. Alarmingly, the sensation shot arousal all the way down to the pit of Tom’s stomach. Heart pounding, Tom drew his thumb all the way from his jaw to his chin.</p><p>Greg leaned in to brush his lips against his, barely a kiss. Tom pulled him closer, making it something he could dignifiably classify as a reason why he was so hard already. When their bodies lined up, he felt Greg was just as hard and the blunt feeling of a clothed erection against his hip was enough to make Tom let out a grunt. Tom toppled Greg over to get on top. They rolled their hips against each other, the searing pleasure annihilating any semblance of hesitation they had before. He ground his cock against Greg’s through layers of clothing, ready and willing to dry hump him until the gyres of hell opened up to devour him whole.</p><p>They went at it relentlessly, clumsily. Tom huffed and moaned against Greg’s neck. Greg held onto him with one hand bunching up the back of Tom’s shirt and the other squeezing Tom’s ass. Then Greg’s phone rang. It vibrated on the bedside table with a horrifying rumble.</p><p>“Fuck, fuck,” Greg slid out from under Tom, panic in his eyes. “Sorry, I’m so fucking sorry. I’ve gotta take this.” Greg took his phone with him out to the hall, closing the door behind him.</p><p>Tom, properly wrecked, sat up. He whispered, “What the fuck.” He glared at a middle distance, just breathing for a bit. Alone in Greg's bed, he grabbed some kleenex and wiped precome from the inside of his boxer shorts, feeling like a fucking creep.</p><p>Tom was half-asleep when Greg came back into the room and got into bed. “You’re the fucking worst,” Tom reminded him.</p><p>“I know. I’m sorry. My boss is in a different time zone. I - I forgot I was waiting for her call. Some things came up.”</p><p>He laid still, unmoving.</p><p>“I can make it up to you? I can, uh. I can suck you off, if you want?”</p><p>Tom was impossibly less erect than before. He was well-acquainted with apology blowjobs, thanks. He enunciated pointedly, "Goodnight, Greg."</p><p>Tom received no response. Instead, he felt Greg get closer and closer to him. Greg nudged at him, rubbing his cheek against his shoulder blade slowly and plaintively like a hungry cat. Tom didn't have it in him to refuse. He reached back and wound his hand around Greg's thigh to pull him closer. Greg blanketed his front along Tom’s back and wound an arm around his middle. It was warm. It was safe. They sighed against each other and fell asleep.</p><p> </p><p>In the following days, Tom felt content. He carried on as usual at home. He forgave Shiv, because that was what he always did. She didn't ask him where he went after they had their argument and Tom never mentioned it. He thought of his night with Greg as a tiny blip in the timeline. Nothing more than a strange occurrence, easy to be forgotten in the grand scheme of things. </p><p>He understood that this was his life. He had a future with Shiv and, if he worked hard enough again, a future with the company. When he thought about what he had, it all fit together perfectly like a sleek and complete jigsaw puzzle.</p><p>However, the high of contentment began to wear off and Tom blindly searched for another hit of it, anywhere. He took jogs out with Mondale. He watched the dog run alongside him, panting happily, and he wanted to absorb that carefree joy. He ran and ran with the wind whistling in his ears until they both collapsed on a bench. He laughed to himself, but he couldn’t shake that empty feeling.</p><p>In the night, he considered his own bed. He hadn't realized it before, but their mattress was firm. Tom remarked on it when the lights were out. "Was our mattress always this firm?"</p><p>"I don't know, yeah. Probably."</p><p>Flat on his back, he rocked his shoulders against the bed, experimentally. There was very little give. "I think I like it softer."</p><p>"We can get a new one," Shiv murmured, disinterested.</p><p>"Hey, Shiv?"</p><p>"Hm."</p><p>He scooted across the width of the bed, crowding up against Shiv's back. She was so small. In the light of day, that was something he often overlooked about her. Fully awake, she towered over him in every way except physically. He planted a kiss against her jaw. She jerked her head away with a surprised groan. Tom said, kissing her again, "Hey, Shiv. Could you do me a favor?"</p><p>"Oh, god. What?"</p><p>"Spoon me?"</p><p>"Seriously?"</p><p>"Seriously. Please?" He rubbed his thumb against the back of her hand imploringly until she turned over to face him. When he turned his back to her, she complied. He took her hand to wrap her arm tightly around himself. Her breasts, soft and warm, bumped up against the expanse of his back, but it didn't feel right. He felt exposed. He blinked into the dark of the room, uneasy.</p><p>“Let me know when you’re done,” Shiv said.</p><p>“Yeah, I think I’m good.” He let go of her arm and she moved back to her side of the bed. </p><p>“Cool.”</p><p>“Thanks.”</p><p>He started drinking a little bit too much coffee, leaning into the jitteriness that the caffeine gave him. He added a lot of sugar and a lot of milk, because nobody was going to judge him for it. He was at home most days of the week and he was going to live how he wanted to. </p><p>With three weekends left before Tom was scheduled to embark for Hong Kong, Shiv left on a business trip to an undisclosed location.</p><p>“I can come with you,” Tom suggested. “I could be your clingy, needy husband. They’d allow it, considering?”</p><p>“Fuck no. And it’s the thing. It’s about the deal. I can’t even tell you where I’m going.”</p><p>“Is it an Iranian bunker? A crack den in Detroit, maybe.”</p><p>“I’m not going out of state,” Shiv provided. “I’ll be back by tomorrow afternoon. Bye.”</p><p>“Okay. Safe trip!” She was gone, out the door. Tom tried not to be sore about it. He was hoping he could get some downtime with her. He wanted to spend the weekend proving to himself and to Shiv how good he could be.</p><p>He went upstairs to put some clothes away in the bedroom. He organized his sock drawer and tossed some old pairs. When he was done in the bedroom, he walked out to the living room and his phone vibrated in his hand. A text message from Greg read, “Hi.” Like an AI taking a crack at the Turing test. </p><p>He decided to ignore it. He set the phone down on the coffee table and rearranged the forks in the utensil drawer. He slid utensils across the organizing tray with a steady hand. He willed his heart to stop pounding in his chest. He wandered back into the living room and picked his phone up. He texted back, “Fuck off.” Then called a car.</p><p>They didn’t start making out immediately. Tom was certain that there was conversation that came before things got quiet and they stood there watching each other until they started kissing. Greg tripped on the rug and bumped into the coffee table while leading them both to the couch. Unable to help himself, Tom practically lunged at Greg and straddled him. They kissed like they had somewhere to be, making disgusting sucking sounds against each other’s mouths. </p><p>Tom’s head sang with it. He felt like he had been wasting time his whole life up until this point, which was dramatic but maybe true. Greg let out desperate little sounds when Tom slid his hand through his hair and pulled. Tom wanted to devour those sounds.</p><p>“What do you wanna do?” Greg asked against his lips.</p><p>"What?" Tom backed up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”</p><p>“I mean.” Greg brushed hair out of his face nervously. "I just want to, like, ask where this is going?"</p><p>"'Where this is going'? I didn't realize this was a railroad. Are you trying to ask me if this is a full-blown affair?”</p><p>"Well. I wasn’t really asking about, like, the big picture or whatever, but now that you bring it up? We should— It’s important for us to be sure. Is this going to be okay? For - for us? I guess we need to talk about what’s gonna be okay for us, right?”</p><p>“I didn’t realize I needed to sign a contract with you.” He dismounted from Greg's lap with as much dignity as he could muster. He stood up, thoroughly offended. "This doesn’t have to be a thing. This isn’t a thing. I can’t believe you invite me over and pounce on me, only to pause to ask for terms and conditions. God, does your depravity know no bounds?”</p><p>Greg sat there motionless with those eyes of his, regarding him and reading him. Tom didn’t want to be regarded or read. The silence stretched on, uncomfortably.</p><p>Finally, Greg spoke. “Do you want to get lunch with me?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p> </p><p>The calm, white walls offered no judgment as Tom laid against Greg’s side on the couch. After lunch, conversation came to a halt. Tucked against Greg and simply enjoying the closeness of one another, Tom stared up at the walls and ceilings of Greg’s loft. He attempted to put this on a shelf in the far reaches of his brain, understanding that this was all they had left.</p><p>“I’m not staying over,” Tom said, quietly.</p><p>Greg hummed in acknowledgement. “Do you have to go though?”</p><p>“I don’t have to go.”</p><p>Tom brought himself up to eye level, his gaze falling to Greg's lips. Tom kissed him. He traced his tongue along Greg's, wanting to remember the taste of him. He lowered his head down to Greg's waist. He lifted the edge of his shirt and gave wet sucking kisses at Greg’s belly. His mouth followed the trail of hair that led up to his navel. Greg gasped, stomach fluttering. Tom ran his thumb along the button of Greg's pants. He looked up at him then, questioningly.</p><p>Greg blinked down at him, mouth open but wordless. He nodded.</p><p>Tom unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, sliding a hand inside to take hold of Greg's cock. He squeezed and felt it stiffen under his palm. Greg let out a strangled moan. He stroked the length up, then down. Tom said, “You wanted terms and conditions, right? Here's what's gonna happen. You’re gonna fuck me and then we’ll never see each other again. Okay?”</p><p>He watched lines of conflict cross Greg’s face before he said, “Okay.”</p><p>They raced each other to the bedroom. Tom stood in the middle of the room, taking his clothes off starting with his shoes and sweater. Greg rifled through a drawer and eventually threw a condom and bottle of lube on the bed. Tom suddenly realized how nervous he was, his skin buzzing with anxiety and his hands wavering at the fly of his pants.</p><p>“Tom?” Greg said, already down to his boxers. He crossed the room, placing a hand on his bicep when he didn’t respond. “Hey, have you ever done this before?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Oh." His face fell. "Oh shit.”</p><p>“What?” he asked with an edge.</p><p>“No, I mean.” He stammered. “I’ll, um. It’s gonna be... okay.” The words sounded foreign, coming from Greg. The look on his face told Tom that not even he knew what he was saying.</p><p>Tom said, “Fuck off, this better be more than okay.”</p><p>Greg nodded at him, then got rid of the rest of their clothes while planting small, undemanding kisses against Tom's lips. He took Tom by the wrist and guided them onto the bed. Tom remembered all the times he spent following the lines of Greg’s body with his eyes. He had wanted this for a long time.</p><p>Tom covered Greg’s body with his own and squeezed at Greg’s sides with his thighs. “What’s next? What’re we doing?”</p><p>“Fingers.”</p><p>Tom watched him handle the bottle of lube and make a fucking mess. Some of it dribbled down Greg's wrist and onto his chest. Tom sat back, unimpressed. However, Greg was distracted, the bottle of lube slipping out of his hands and onto the bed. After he closed the cap on the bottle, he placed a hand on Tom's waist, guiding him up while he brought his back against the headboard of the bed.</p><p>Tom followed him up, crawling. He bracketed his knees on either side of Greg’s hips. When Greg’s fingers brushed against his hole, Tom jerked back, startled. He shook his head at himself and grabbed Greg’s wrist to bring him back in. Tom breathed out, “Yeah.”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“Yeah.” With a grip around Greg's wrist, he sunk down on a finger. There was resistance there. He remembered to breathe as Greg fingered him. Eyes closed, he nodded and urged Greg on with a grip on his wiry upper arms. When Greg had two fingers in his ass and a hand stroking his cock, a full-body shudder overtook Tom and he exhaled sharply against Greg's shoulder.</p><p>He kissed Greg messily on the side of his mouth while Greg added more lube and another finger. He was at his mercy and knew, then, that he'd do whatever Greg wanted, whatever he asked. He wanted Greg to know that, but he could only mouth at his jaw, drunk on arousal. Tom swallowed, managing to say, "Want you."</p><p>Greg was careful when he put Tom on his back and nudged a pillow under his hips. Tom reached up to run a hand through Greg's floppy hair. They shared a look and it felt dangerous and fragile all at once. </p><p>Greg looked away and busied himself with the condom, while Tom drew his legs up. It shouldn't have made sense for Tom to want someone like Greg, but he looked at him and couldn't remember wanting anything else. This beautiful, gangly piece of shit who singlehandedly destroyed his career.</p><p>The head of Greg's cock bumped against Tom's opening, then sank into him. The shock more than anything wracked a high moan out of Tom. Greg rearranged Tom’s legs, perching his calves against his shoulders and essentially folding Tom in half. He could take it. </p><p>Greg slid deeper into him once, slowly. He said, “Focus on breathing.”</p><p>Tom felt dazed, not even sure if it was Greg who said anything at all. Nonetheless, he nodded, taking deep shuddering breaths. He shut his eyes, feeling like he was unraveling. He let Greg fuck into him again slowly. Greg repeated the motion, then started picking up the pace.</p><p>Afterwards, they laid side by side on the bed. Greg rested the side of his cheek against Tom's shoulder and had a hand wrapped around Tom's wrist. Greg felt restless next to him, adjusting his sharp jaw against Tom’s shoulder and squeezing at his wrist in a pattern like morse code. Tom tangled his free hand in Greg's hair, just holding it there. He wanted to hold him down and tell him to relax.</p><p>Greg's breath hitched, almost imperceptibly, then sighed. He said, "I'm - I'm gonna smoke. Is that okay?"</p><p>Tom didn't know he smoked. At a loss, he murmured, "Yeah, that's fine." He watched Greg cross the room and rustle through a drawer. Greg lit the cigarette with a lighter and hollowed his cheeks around it, sucking. It was a markedly graceful gesture. The smoke and stench wafted toward him and Tom immediately realized it was weed, which made sense.</p><p>Greg sat at the edge of the bed with his back to Tom. Tom moved closer to him, disliking the sudden shift in atmosphere. Without looking at him, Greg offered him the joint and Tom thought, <i>Fuck it, why not?</i></p><p>In time, they were on their backs again, talking. “You’re gonna leave soon,” Greg said flatly, not a question. “Were you for real, when you said that this is it for us?”</p><p>“Yeah. That’s how it has to be.”</p><p>"Maybe we can do this again sometime? When you come back, after the job?"</p><p>Sardonically, Tom replied, "Sure, I'll be maybe 50 years old and freshly cultured and worldly. We can run off together and start a life in the backwoods of Indonesia."</p><p>"Yeah, or... or Canada. Meet up with Grandpa Ewan." Greg laughed to himself. "He'll think it's, like, the funniest thing to happen since the Recession. His grandson seducing Uncle Logan's only son-in-law."</p><p>Tom didn't entirely register that descriptor. As far as he understood, he wasn't Logan's anything. "Does your family know-- I mean, do they know about...?"</p><p>"That I'm gay? No. Like, my grandpa probably doesn't give a shit. And, um. Maybe my mom knows. She just, you know, knows things? Like she knew about my dad."</p><p>Tom wondered if his own parents knew about him. He questioned whether he covered enough of his trail, then remembered the very public and very real wedding he had. He jerked up to a sitting position. "Oh, fuck. Shiv."</p><p>"Yeah. Shiv,” Greg agreed dolefully.</p><p>"Fuck. I've gotta go." He scanned the floor for his clothes and it felt like an impossible task locating every piece. He smoked way too much. He covered his face with his hands and groaned.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. i ran to you (and you know why)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tom rode into work with Shiv, which hadn't happened in a while. He wasn’t going to be in the office for long; he had a quick meet and greet with the people working to transition him into the new position. Getting out of the car, Tom found that his suit didn't fit around his body as comfortably as it used to. The shoulders in his jacket felt tight and his pant legs were suddenly too short. He tried not to be bothered by it.</p>
<p>"Home, sweet home," Tom murmured as he and Shiv entered the lobby.</p>
<p>Wordlessly, Shiv tapped away at her phone while she walked through the turnstile with him. She offered him a tight smile as they loaded up into the elevator. His meeting was held on a lower floor, which made for a short ride up. When the elevator doors slid open to let him out, Shiv pat him on the back. "Make new friends," she said.</p>
<p>Tom took a few deep breaths, hoping that his old work persona wasn't rusty. Through the glass panes of the conference room walls, he saw three men sitting and pointing at a laptop, looking properly business-like. Tom entered the room, smiling wide. "Hey, hey. Hong Kong crew, I presume?"</p>
<p>The three of them stood in greeting. He immediately recognized Mr. Zhen from Marcia's party. Mr. Zhen said, "Mr. Wambsgans, great to see you again." He introduced the two others and their names dropped out of Tom's head in an instant. In the following hour, they took him through a structured presentation with powerpoint slides projected on the wall, entirely for Tom's benefit. Tom barely processed a word of it.</p>
<p>The bald guy with a thick New York accent ended the presentation and asked, "So, Tom. Do you have any questions for us?"</p>
<p>"No, none at all. Not after all that. Goes to show how thorough you all are, huh?"</p>
<p>They all shook hands once more, then filed out of the room. Before he could leave, Tom approached Mr. Zhen, stalling until the other two men were fully out of earshot. "Hypothetically speaking," Tom said, keeping his voice down. "Out of curiosity, really: what would happen if I backed out of this? How - how bad would it be, for you guys?"</p>
<p>Mr. Zhen raised a brow. "Are you having doubts about the job?"</p>
<p>"No, no doubts. Just wondering."</p>
<p>"Well, we would have to find someone else, as soon as possible. We would try everything in our power not to slow the transition process down."</p>
<p>"Right. Of course, that would be nothing short of catastrophic. But say, if you did find someone else. Someone better, even. It would be... ideal for you, right?"</p>
<p>“Is everything alright?”</p>
<p>Tom broke eye contact, nodding reassuringly. “I’m just feeling out my options. Just in case, a family matter might arise. You never know with these things.”</p>
<p>“Is Mrs. Wambsgans alright?”</p>
<p>“Mrs. Wambsgans,” he laughed. “You’ve been terrific. I've got a few names in mind, if anything does arise. I’ll keep in touch.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>On the way home, Tom received a text message from Shiv, alerting him that Kendall was going to stop by.</p>
<p>"At our place?"</p>
<p>"Yeah. He sounds pissed. The fuck did you do?"</p>
<p>"No idea. I'll find out."</p>
<p>Tom sweated feverishly as he thought about what Kendall needed to talk to him about. He didn't know enough about Kendall and Greg's relationship to guess how much he knew. He fidgeted with the knot in his tie. He did not like the idea of discussing with Kendall his less-than-kosher situation with Greg. </p>
<p>Tom hadn’t spoken to him since they fucked, just like he said he would. With each day that went by, he was impressed with his own self-restraint.</p>
<p>Kendall was already waiting outside his front door when Tom arrived. He was clearly displeased by whatever he was about to tell him. Despite it, Tom greeted him jovially: "Hey, Ken. How's it going?"</p>
<p>“What did you do? Like, what the fuck’s your deal, dude.”</p>
<p>Tom didn’t want to have this conversation in plain view of the public. He unlocked the door and let them both in as smoothly as his simmering panic allowed. He shut the door and offered, “Can I get you anything to drink?"</p>
<p>“No, I'm not staying long." Kendall stood in the foyer with his hands at his hips. "We've got shit to discuss. About Greg."</p>
<p>"Ah, about Greg." Tom nodded, pleased with the surprise in his own voice.</p>
<p>"So, I walked into his place the other day and it looks like the fucking Den of Despair. He looks like somebody, uh, ran him over with a Coors Lite van, if getting hit by a Coors Lite van meant turning you into a sad son of a bitch who reeks of weed and bad decisions.”</p>
<p>“Oh, okay,” Tom intoned, not completely following.</p>
<p>“He gave me vague explanations and your name came up, multiple times. Now he’s onto asking me to get him shit, like pills I've never even heard of. So, you know. Something shitty happened to him, is what I‘ve gathered.”</p>
<p>“He’s - wait a minute, he’s doing drugs?” Then, his thoughts catching up to him, he added slowly, “And you’re blaming it on me.”</p>
<p>Kendall nailed him with a long-suffering look. “Look, man. I know him. And I know a downward spiral when I see one. At this point, I don’t give a shit what you two have going on. I just need him to be, y'know, not like this. You put him on that ledge and now you've gotta talk him down it.”</p>
<p>“What if I can’t?”</p>
<p>He shook his head. “He won’t talk to me about it, but I can hazard to guess that he’ll talk to you. Just do it, okay? There only needs to be one of me in this fucking family, and it shouldn’t be Greg.”</p>
<p>Kendall made to leave, but Tom stopped him. "Hey. He might--" He shut his eyes, wishing he didn't have to do this. It would’ve been infinitely easier for all of them if he didn’t. "I’ll talk to him, but he might not let me in. Could you take me to him?"</p>
<p>Tom and Kendall shared a car. Tom looked out the window and recognized building after building. Without even knowing it, he had gotten so familiar with the route between his place and Greg's. Thankfully, Kendall was quiet on the way there. They sat in heavy silence. Tom felt guilty. The atmosphere unearthed old memories of his dad scolding him for breaking the garage door mechanism when he was a kid. What Tom got up to now, in comparison, was far more intricate and deeply fucked up.</p>
<p>Tom stood back as Kendall called Greg up from the lobby of his place. Kendall signaled towards the elevator, ushering Tom inside. "It's all you, man. Don't fuck this up."</p>
<p>When the elevator brought him up to Greg's loft, the doors opened to reveal Greg slumped over the dining room table with his head nested in his crossed arms. It was not a good look for him at all. Tom immediately understood the picture Kendall was painting for him earlier. In the lighting at this hour, the walls were blue and dark. The air felt heavy and poisonous, almost like it was cursed.</p>
<p>Tom wracked his brain for something to say, but nothing came to him. He pulled out a chair across from Greg and sat down. The dining room was a decidedly neutral place. It was free of association for them, unlike the couch or the bedroom. </p>
<p>Genuinely curious, Tom asked, “Are you awake?”</p>
<p>Greg lifted his head very slowly. His eyes were bloodshot and glassy. His hair was a mess and he hadn’t shaven in a few days. He took a horrifyingly long moment before he processed who he was looking at. Greg scowled. “Where’s Kendall?”</p>
<p>“He left."</p>
<p>He rubbed at his eyes. "He said he was going to bring me something for this headache."</p>
<p>Tom held himself still. He was torn between tossing out an awful quip and extending a hand to touch Greg's face. He chose neither. He wished Kendall came up with him. He didn't know how to deal with this. He only knew he needed to handle this with some degree of tact. He tried and it came out as, "Why are you like this?”</p>
<p>Greg put his head back down on the table, leaning his cheek against the crook of his elbow. “My mom used to ask me that all the time. Are you my mom?”</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>“I might be," he answered, nonsensically. "I tried so hard not to turn into my dad, I think I turned into my mom on accident. Or maybe both, like some kind of combination between a pill-popping grouch and uncontrollably gay to a fault. No, I'm, like, totally both now. Fuck.”</p>
<p>Tom lowered his head to look into Greg's eyes, trying to find the version of him he knew. His eyes were unfocused and unfamiliar to Tom and it scared him. <i>Where are you?</i>, he thought, hoping his Greg would hear. Out loud, he asked, "What did you take?"</p>
<p>"Some stuff. Bad stuff." He shut his eyes tightly, the delicate skin of his eyelids wrinkling. "You should go. You're moving out soon."</p>
<p>"I can't. I made a deal with Kendall. He wants you to stop whatever it is you’re doing."</p>
<p>“I told him not to worry. I just needed this for a little bit. I’ll stop soon.”</p>
<p>“Oh, you will? When?” Tom asked, calling bullshit. He didn't know who he was dealing with at all.</p>
<p>Greg gave him a weary look. “Do you really need me to say it?”</p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p>“Until you left. For good. I needed this, just for the next couple weeks.” His expression shifted. He looked up at Tom, hopeful. "Is - is this better for you? Do you like me better this way? You can, y'know, be the one with a level head, between the two of us. For once. Just like we talked about."</p>
<p>"No, Greg," Tom said firmly. His chest felt heavy. "I don't like you like this at all."</p>
<p>"Then maybe that's better, too. Easier for you to leave? Leave me?”</p>
<p>There was nothing easy about any of this. Every time he thought about his decision, he came to the same answer. He didn't want to stay where he was, but he didn't want to leave. He admitted to Greg, "I'm starting to rethink the job. I never wanted to go in the first place."</p>
<p>Greg sat there, unseeing. Tom wasn't sure if he heard what he said. Then, Greg responded, "PGM isn't all that it's cracked up to be, either. The Pierces aren't that different from all of you. All of us, them. The Roys. Whatever. Same game, different rules."</p>
<p>Tom wasn't expecting that as an answer. He hadn't thought to ask about Greg's new job. He hadn't thought to wonder if Greg was happy there. He looked miserable now. His eyes were closed again and he looked like he was dropping out of consciousness. Tom reached out to shake him by the shoulder. "Greg. Hey, wake up."</p>
<p>Greg woke up, irate. He jerked away from Tom's touch. "Stop, I'm fine. You should go. Shiv will be mad if you don't go."</p>
<p>He stiffened at the mention of Shiv. He was sick of thinking of her as an excuse to leave. "I disappoint Shiv all the time. It wouldn't be anything new."</p>
<p>"I thought that maybe I could get you to leave her. For a second, I really thought. Like I was helping you.”</p>
<p>Tom didn't have anything to say to that. He clenched his jaw, waiting for the moment to pass.</p>
<p>Greg snapped at him, "What would it take, Tom? How much would she have to-- She's sending you away. Isn't that enough? How can you keep going like this?"</p>
<p>He knew the answer to that. He thought about it all the time. He answered flatly, "Greg, someday, it's gonna become very easy for you to take what you're feeling and shove it aside for your own good. I'm really fucking good at it. I do it every day."</p>
<p>Lines formed between Greg’s brows and he shook his head slightly, not comprehending.</p>
<p>"I'm gonna come back in a couple days to check on you." He stood up, making his way to the exit. "And if you're not cleaned up by then, Kendall's probably going to hire somebody to murder me. Or both of us, I don't know."</p>
<p>“Don't. I can tell Kendall--“</p>
<p>“I’ll come back. I don’t want to, but I will.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tom didn't feel entirely solid. His insides felt liquefied. He couldn't describe it, if anybody had asked. No one did, anyway. That night and the night after, Tom couldn't sleep. He laid down in bed feeling entirely awake, despite having made an effort to tire himself out in the day. Every time he tried to close his eyes, they shot open with the feeling that he forgot to do something important. Shiv grew weary of his tossing and turning and bodily shoved him out of bed.</p>
<p>Tom went to the kitchen to check the oven burners, then the locks on the front door. Everything was shut, locked, and properly turned off. He settled into a lounge chair by the living room window, with his head feeling like a bloated water balloon.</p>
<p>He hadn't started packing for the move. A little over a week ago, Shiv brought out his suitcase from their walk-in closet and placed it against the wall in the living room. She hadn't said anything about it, but its presence said enough. Tom sat at the edge of the seat, slouching forward with his chin resting on his palm. Just being there, he felt like he was imposing. Like he had snuck into somebody else's house. For all the time that he spent at home recently, it felt less and less like his own.</p>
<p>That logic, he understood, could be applied to his entire self. The moment he met Shiv five or six years ago, he knew he wanted to be more like her and everything she represented. He spent so much time knowing her and consuming her that it left very little of himself behind. Shiv held clear standards. He made an Olympic sport out of meeting those standards. Tom was constantly inches away from believing that that was who he was. And in the times he couldn't be that for Shiv, he strove to be useful.</p>
<p>He could manage five years in Hong Kong. It was the coming back that killed him. If he was even less useful to Shiv than before, he would fall apart. Maybe he was already falling apart.</p>
<p>Greg didn't understand any of this. If he did, he wouldn't have ever expected him to stay. Tom thought of the words he would use to describe it to him. He wanted to talk to Greg. He wanted to be with him. The want was like an aching sore that wouldn’t scab over or fade. He wondered if he could bear to live with it.</p>
<p>Tom stared out the window at a red blinking light. He wasn't sure what it was, but he guessed it was placed on a high tower to signal helicopters or something. He focused on the light, slowing his breathing down to match with the on-off-on pulsing pattern.</p>
<p>He heard a metallic clattering sound behind him. It was morning. Shiv was fully dressed and made up, preparing herself a breakfast of what he could guess was oatmeal and frozen berries. She met eyes with him, tossing him a quick, "Hey."</p>
<p>He cleared his throat, feeling like hell. "Morning."</p>
<p>"Sure is."</p>
<p>"Jesus. What time is it? What month is it?"</p>
<p>"It's, like, seven o'clock," she said, mouth full. "Still April. You slept out here?"</p>
<p>"Yeah, fuck. Real bad." He stumbled off to the bathroom, hoping that getting him into his morning routine would bring him back to life. He dreamt that he was working on the gears of a complicated machine. The gears had suddenly started moving and it clipped off a fingertip, blood spewing everywhere. It was not a nice dream to have. He flexed his fingers in the shower, hoping to wick off the visceral feeling of blood rushing out of him.</p>
<p>When he was clean and dressed for the day, he discovered Shiv sitting there at the dining table with breakfast all cleared away. She wasn't texting or scrolling through her phone, but sitting with one knee drawn to her chest and her phone wobbling in her hand restlessly. Her eyes were distant.</p>
<p>"You okay?" Tom asked.</p>
<p>She looked at him, expression neutral. "When was the last time you saw Greg?"</p>
<p>The blood drained from Tom's face. He drew a breath, held it in. "Not since, uh, Marcia's party, maybe. When he was with Nan Pierce, of all people. Why - why do you ask?"</p>
<p>"No reason. I've been trying to get in touch with him. About a thing. He's gone AWOL."</p>
<p>"AWOL? From what?"</p>
<p>Sometimes, Tom likened Shiv's eyes to a window with billowing drapes. He watched the drapes draw shut. She said, "Nothing."</p>
<p>Tom shoved his hands in his pocket and shrugged. "Maybe ask Kendall."</p>
<p>"Yeah, maybe."</p>
<p>They stayed quiet for a long, arduous moment. Tom felt his heart thud in his chest. His head was a cocktail of echoing klaxons, sleep deprivation, and worry. He wondered if something had happened to Greg. He wondered why Shiv wanted to find him. Shiv left for work.</p>
<p>Tom sent Greg a text message: "Everything okay?" He waited. No response. He set his phone down and paced the living room floor. He counted the lightbulbs in the ceiling light fixture: one, two, three, four, five. He looked at his phone. No response. He checked the news, searching for any reports of local building fires or terrorist attacks. He called Greg's phone. It rung and rung, then went to voicemail. He called fucking PGM offices. He wasn't in.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When he got to the lobby of Greg's building, he had George the doorman call Greg, as usual. However, it took an unusually long time to reach him. Tom stood by and waited while his worry mounted in his already scattered brain. He heard the elevator ding and the doors opened. Tom craned his neck to see who it was and he was sure he had lost his mind: "Shiv?"</p>
<p>Shiv stood there with her eyes wide as saucers. She said nothing, lips parted. Tom asked, "What are you doing here?"</p>
<p>"What - what are <i>you</i> doing here?"</p>
<p>Tom felt like he couldn't feel his legs. "I - You... you mentioned something might've happened to Greg. I'm, you know, checking up on him. He's here?"</p>
<p>"Yeah, he's here. And I was checking up on him."</p>
<p>"Oh, were you?" he asked, his voice going high. "Since when have you been so concerned with his well-being?"</p>
<p>Shiv's voice went even higher. "Since when have you? He's family. What has he done for you lately?"</p>
<p>Tom felt the little voice in his head screaming wildly and incoherently at the question. He floundered at the thought of verbally communicating the sentiment. The doorman cut in: "Hey, Tom? You could go up now."</p>
<p>Tom looked over at the doorman and reflexively said, "Thanks, George." He darted into the elevator, leaving Shiv to make disbelieving sounds by the front door. They were going to have a chat later. He wasn't entirely sure who was caught out more, but he felt that his visit was justified. Tom was visiting Greg for exclusively savory reasons. However, that didn't dissuade him from barking at Greg the second he came out of the elevator. “You haven't been answering your phone. What the fuck was Shiv doing here?”</p>
<p>“Hey, Tom,” Greg said weakly, otherwise standing tall and looking healthy. He was wearing clean clothes and appeared lucid, but confounded. Because of Tom's yelling. “She didn’t tell you, I’m guessing?”</p>
<p>“No, she didn’t.”</p>
<p>He sighed, looking put out. “I can probably tell you now, now that I’m out. Come on, let's sit down."</p>
<p>Tom asked, shrill, "You're okay?"</p>
<p>"Yeah, I'm fine," Greg answered briskly with his back to Tom. They made their way to separate arm chairs while Greg explained, "I hadn’t been to work all week and it was, like, important for me to be there. She was kinda mad.”</p>
<p>“Why would it matter to her? She doesn’t work for PGM.”</p>
<p>Greg pursed his lips, eyes flitting to the side. He drew his palms down the front of his pants, anxiously. It was the Greg that he knew. Tom would have been relieved if he wasn’t so perturbed. Greg said, “She was working with us to acquire ATN. I was - I don’t know, facilitating. Helping? I guess. It was more work keeping it hidden, because if Logan found out that Shiv—”</p>
<p>“You duplicitous fuck. This whole time?”</p>
<p>“Tom, I’m really sorry I kept this from you. But - but Shiv came here just now and I told her that I didn’t want anything to do with it anymore. I didn’t like lying so much, to so many people. I think I might’ve, like, quit my job, too. I’m not sure yet.”</p>
<p>Tom brought his gaze to the floor, mentally retracing his steps. He thought back to everything suspect that had happened in the last several weeks. Every underhanded comment from Shiv or flicker of hesitation from Greg. He didn't know what belonged to which reason, anymore. “This is what you meant? Is this what you meant, when you said we shouldn’t see each other, because of Shiv and the company?”</p>
<p>“Well, yeah. But like, you know." Greg shrugged. "It’s all sort of done for now, huh?”</p>
<p>"And we're... We, um. How do I fit into all this?"</p>
<p>"You weren't... really a part of this at all. At least, I don't think you were." Greg watched Tom try to piece everything together. He waited a while before he said, “It's been a rough day, you know? Between talking to you and Shiv and having all that junk leftover in my system, I’m really tired. You can go, if you need. I'm fine now.”</p>
<p>Tom, thoughts running through his head, stood slowly. His mind snapped back to the present and realized what Greg meant. He realized that this was it. This time for sure, it was the last they'd see of each other. He stood and looked up at Greg, who looked genuinely tired. Everything was happening too fast. Greg walked ahead of him, leading him to the elevator doors.</p>
<p>"Greg, wait. Wait." He reeled himself in. Greg turned to him, brow raised and his mouth in a straight line. There wasn't any warmth left in him. If there was, Tom couldn't see it in his expression or his posture.</p>
<p>“This is - it’s not really goodbye, anyway,” Greg said, voice flat. “Maybe I’ll see you in five years.”</p>
<p>Tom gave an empty laugh. “Five years. Yeah. Until then.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>At home, he fell apart. He understood the feeling from before. That feeling like he was liquid. He leaned back against the kitchen counter and his shoulders shook. He let himself cry and he cried messily, his sobs coming out painful. It felt like emptying a glass that he didn't know was full.</p>
<p>By the time Shiv came home, he felt dry to the bone. He took deep breaths, willing his lungs to work in his favor. He hadn't drafted out in his head what he would say to her. He had questions. She most likely had questions too. He didn't have the energy to concoct lies.</p>
<p>She stood before him. In Tom's blurred sight, her angles and lines were razor sharp. She studied him from afar with piercing precision. There wasn't any hiding the state he was in. He probably wouldn't survive if she got any closer to him. “How long have you known,” Shiv asked. “About the deal?”</p>
<p>“I just found out today, actually.” His voice was hoarse.</p>
<p>“Greg?”</p>
<p>He nodded. “He told me that you’ve been hiding this from Logan. That’s why you were hiding it from me. You thought that I couldn’t keep a secret?”</p>
<p>“You were becoming a liability.”</p>
<p>“Is this why you wanted me to leave for Hong Kong so badly? I was in your way?”</p>
<p>“It was a part of the Pierce deal." She looked away. "They wanted you out of the picture. I just - I didn’t say no.”</p>
<p>“No, of course not. You said, ‘Yes, please. How soon can we get him out?’” He thought about what Greg had said about the Pierces. Same game, different rules. “They asked you to take my whole life away from me. And for what? To prove your loyalty to them?”</p>
<p>She brought her chin up, visibly gathering her defiance. Daring him to make his next move. “So, now you have your leverage. What’s your play? What’s it going to be?”</p>
<p>“No, there’s no play. Shiv, I’m not like you. I don’t have some master plan at work. I don’t fight back. You’ve known this about me.” Tom watched Shiv. He waited for her expression to change. He waited for the drapes to swing open, let some light in. They never did.</p>
<p>"Okay then," Shiv said. "Good."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mondale whined for a whole night. He could hear the screeching and howling from down the hall and through the closed doors of the guest room Tom slept in nowadays. Tom was worried, because the dog usually slept when Tom did. He was always good at sticking to the routine. He wondered if Mondale still thought that he was leaving. Tom backed all the way out of the job. It was a mess, but he knew that it was what he wanted to do.</p>
<p>In the morning, Tom took the dog out by the docks. It was the same place he visited weeks ago when he met Greg. He hoped that the sight of the water would have a calming effect on both of them. These days, he was hard-pressed to find anywhere that offered him any memories of calm. They walked down the sidewalk with the sun in their eyes. He squinted out across the bay.</p>
<p>"Tom?"</p>
<p>Tom turned around. It was Greg, because of course it was. He was standing there and Tom was probably dreaming. Tom asked, "What the hell are you doing here?"</p>
<p>"Did you follow me here?" Greg asked, absurdly.</p>
<p>"No," he answered. "No, what the fuck? Shouldn't you be at work or something?"</p>
<p>Mondale tugged on the leash, wanting to get closer to Greg. Greg knelt down to pet him. "Hey, Mondale. How you been?" Greg looked up at Tom while Mondale licked his hand. "It's been a long while since I've seen this guy. I've taken some time off. Sort of, like, revisiting all the places I've been to around here, for the last time. Like a goodbye tour."</p>
<p>"What do you mean? Are you moving away?"</p>
<p>Greg explained, "I'm moving to Canada, out near my grandpa. Start fresh, you know? Start again. The city's too much for me, I think."</p>
<p>Tom opened his mouth to speak. He stopped himself. Canada. He remembered the conversation they had in bed. He remembered Greg laughing about what his grandpa would think of them. Tom asked, "Did you mean it? When you said you would've wanted to see me again, when I came back?"</p>
<p>Greg stood up, conflict visible in his face. Then his expression softened. "Yeah. Yeah, I meant it."</p>
<p>"Let me come with you," Tom said, surprising even himself. "To Canada. Not in five years. Now."</p>
<p>"Tom," he said, guarded.</p>
<p>"Fuck all this. I want to. It’s all I’ve wanted.”</p>
<p>"Y-you're serious? Even - even after everything I put you through."</p>
<p>"Yes," Tom said. "Yes."</p>
<p>“Then, yes.” Greg said, "Fuck it, let's do it."</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>